


Hardison's Fantasy

by Amuly



Category: Leverage
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-08
Updated: 2010-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:26:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hardison wants to see Eliot in a special costume for his birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hardison's Fantasy

Hardison was sitting on his bed, staring holes in the bathroom door. “You almost finished?”

“Just shut up, alright? This damn thing is…” Behind the door, Eliot grunted. Hardison could hear some jangling, like bits of metal scraping together. “Hang on. Almost got it.”

This was going to be so good. Eliot never should have agreed to anything Hardison wanted on his birthday – besides bottoming. Eliot had drawn the line at bottoming. Hardison had acted like it put him out, but really he had no interest in topping. This… _this_ was his fantasy.

“Alright, I’m coming out. But so help me, if you laugh, I’m putting you through a wall.”

Hardison took just a moment to stroke his erection, allowing himself a small respite. He had already stripped while waiting for Eliot: didn’t see any reason to have anything delaying them later on. “No laughing, I swear! I can’t promise that I’ll be able to contain myself in _other_ ways, but no laughing.”

With a click the doorknob turned. After just a moment’s hesitation, it swung open, revealing an incredibly pissed off Eliot. An incredibly pissed off Eliot, in a Princess Leia slave girl bikini, hair pulled back and braided just like hers. Hardison’s breath caught in his throat, eyes bulging out of his head. He felt like he was going to faint, with all the blood rushing out of his head and heading south. Oh…oh _yes_.

“I hate you.”

Hardison had to swallow several times before he managed to wet his mouth enough to speak. “I _love_ you. Oh, hot _damn_. Eliot, do you have _any_ idea how hot you look right now?”

“I look ridiculous.” Eliot was shifting from foot to foot, hands sliding down his bare thighs, looking for pockets. His fingers settled for fumbling with the edges of the skirt, unsure of what to do with themselves.

“I…” Hardison was completely at a loss for words. The _hair_ , pulled back just like her, and those muscular thighs, that tight stomach… “Could you…um…do you have the…”

Eliot grumbled something under his breath, but he went back into the bathroom for a moment, only to reappear, fastening a chain to the collar around his neck. “I hate you. You owe me so much for this,” he grunted out between gritted teeth.

“I will do whatever you want for the rest of your life in return for this. Just, just hold the chain…you know, like in the movie…”

Eliot sighed, one hand going up to run through his hair, before he remembered it was pulled back into a braid. Obediently he held the chain between both hands, striking a sexy, defiant pose. Hardison nearly came all over the carpet at the sight, head swimming, and had to fumble for a few seconds with trembling fingers to retrieve the camera. “If these pictures end up _anywhere_ : online, on the company desktop…”

“Never, never…” Hardison could barely focus enough to take a few pictures, hands trembling the whole time. He’d never show these pictures to anyone: Eliot was _his_ like this – a sight no one else got to see. “Could you…on the bed? Like the poster I showed you?”

Eliot sighed, but obediently walked over to the bed and lay down, propping himself up on one arm. “Like this?”

For a moment Hardison forgot the camera, and dove forward to kiss Eliot passionately. Eliot responded back eagerly, apparently under the impression that his torture was over and they were finally going to get to the sex. Wet tongues slid over each other, cold metal bit into Hardison’s skin. He moaned, shivering under the onslaught of sensation. “Wait, wait…” Hardison couldn’t _believe_ that he was mustering up enough self-control to pull back right now, but he _really_ wanted those pictures for himself.

Eliot grumbled, but resumed his pose for Hardison. Hardison crawled off the bed and leaned his chest over it, taking a few pictures of Eliot lying in front of him. He retained enough coherent thought to double-check the photos on the camera before he tossed it aside, attacking Eliot. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Hardison peppered Eliot with kisses in between thanks, running his hands up and down Eliot’s thighs, reveling in the smooth silken feel of the skirt beneath them.

“Can I get out…” Eliot paused as Hardison shoved his tongue in his mouth, responding in equal vigor, “of this – there, Hardison, shit,” Hardison grinned to himself as he nipped at Eliot’s pulse point, grinding his hips down rhythmically, “this costume?”

Hardison shook his head, redoubling his hips’ efforts. Best make Eliot stop thinking about exactly what they were doing. “Want you to fuck me in it. Please…” The last word came out like a breathy whine. Then Eliot was flipping him, violently, and straddling his hips.

Oh, _fuck_. Hardison gasped and closed his eyes tight, feeling his orgasm building too suddenly. The sight of Eliot on top of him: braid coming slightly loose, little strands of hair poking out, metal bra strapped tight across his chest, and that _chain_ , which was now rubbing, _stroking, oh, he’s_ … “Eliot, please, gimme a sec…”

Hardison still couldn’t open his eyes, but he could hear the smirk in his voice. “I thought you’d like feeling the chain on your nipples. After all…” Hardison felt Eliot shift and lean forward, hot breath on his ear as he whispered, “I’m your slave girl.”

With a cry and a single buck of his hips, Hardison came, arching off the bed and against Eliot’s skirt. The silk brushed against his cock as he came all over it, and Hardison almost sobbed at the sensation. He came down from his orgasm with Eliot kissing at his neck gently – a dramatic difference from how he normally was. “Shit, Eliot, sorry…” Hardison reached up and wiped sweat from his forehead, only then opening his eyes. Eliot was grinning down at him, _like the cat that caught the canary_ , as his nana might say. “Fuck, man, you don’t know what that outfit _does_ to me…”

Eliot glanced down significantly, then looked back up at Hardison, smug grin plastered on his face. “I think I’ve got an idea, now.”

Hardison made to cuff Eliot upside the head, but his hand faltered, and it turned into more of a caress. Eliot grinned, then chanced a glance downward with another significant look. “Hey, uh, how soon you think you’d be ready to…”

With a heady moan, Hardison dragged Eliot down into a smoldering kiss. “With you in that outfit, babe, I could go all night…”

They kissed again, Hardison already growing hard again under the ministrations of Eliot’s tongue, and the feel of the chain sliding against his chest. “Oh, and Hardison?”

“Mm?” Hardison tried to lean up as Eliot pulled back, a more serious look in his eyes.

“Just because I’m in this outfit, does _not_ mean you get to call me ‘babe’.”


End file.
